The weight of her was unbearable.

  Not in size…Nova was small, her frame tucked easily against his chest…but in what she meant to him now, the thought of losing her, and in what she had done for him tonight, there was no doubts in his mind now

  Kael didn’t stop moving.

  He had left the scene far behind, but it followed him like a shadow. The acrid scent of smoke clung to him, embedded deep into his skin. He could still hear the flames, still see the twisted remnants of bodies turning to ash.

  He knew they would come.

  Not the first responders at the fire department or police station, or the cleanup crews that would be sent to do damage control. No, it would be those who didn’t care about scorched land or missing men, or the dead wolves. What they would care about, is whether or not the men they had hired had gotten the job done, and they wouldn’t let it go until they had answers.

  Right now none of that mattered.

  The only thing that mattered was getting Nova to safety.

  Kael ran, the forest stretching endlessly around him, his breath steady, his arms wrapped protectively around her. Nova was dead weight, unmoving and unresponsive. It had been hours, and still, she hadn’t stirred. Her skin was warm but not feverish. Her breath steady, but too shallow.

  It unnerved him.

  Kael had seen wolves push themselves too far before. He had seen them burn out many times, learning to shift and heal, and had seen them collapse into exhaustion after battle. He had been witness to remarkable strength, and skill, however he had never in his life bore witness to a wolf being engulfed in flame. None of them had burned everything around them like the flame had been alive and driven with a vengeance, a force beyond anything he had ever known.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he pushed forward, his mind running in circles, grasping for answers. The ground sloped beneath him, the landscape shifting. The trees thinned, the air growing heavier, thicker with the scent of damp stone. Ahead of him was the door of an old military bunker. It was built into the side of a rockface, half-swallowed by the earth, concealed behind a wall of thick underbrush and gnarled trees that had twisted their roots around its existence, as if nature itself wanted to erase it.

  Kael knew this place well. It had been years since he had come back here, years since he had even thought about it.

  He had left it all behind after Ingram died. It was the only place that had ever belonged to him. He had stumbled upon it as a kid, exploring the deep woods that were well beyond Ingram’s territory. The bunker had been abandoned long ago, forgotten by time, and lost to history. It had become a secret that he kept even from Ingram.

  Now, it would keep her safe.

  Kael reached the concealed entrance, his fingers moving instinctively, pushing through vines, feeling along the rock until his hand found purchase on the rusted metal latch. It was stiff from years of disuse, but with a sharp yank, the hatch groaned open, revealing a narrow stairway that led into darkness.

  The air grew colder, thick with the scent of metal, dust, and steel. The bunker was deep enough that the temperature remained cool and dry, untouched by the seasons.

  He shifted his hold on Nova, kicking the door closed behind him. The darkness swallowed them whole, and he descended. Stepping deeper inside, he adjusted Nova’s weight as his eyes swept over the space. Years of abandonment pressed against the walls like a forgotten relic buried beneath the earth.

  The main living area stretched ahead, dimly lit by the soft glow of emergency lights that flickered to life along the ceiling. The walls were lined with steel shelves, most of them dented and worn, but still sturdy. Remnants of his past remained scattered across them: books with curled edges, old field manuals, maps, a collection of mismatched supplies he had stashed here over the years.

  A metal table sat in the center of the space, its paint scratched and peeling, with a pair of chairs pushed against it. On top of it, a field radio, the same one he had used in his younger years, still covered in dust, but likely functional. A faded pack of playing cards was beside it, remnants of restless nights spent in silence. A single lantern, its glass smudged with age, sat nearby, and off in the corner a wood stove that he’d installed.

  The bunker split into three more rooms.

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  To the left, the storage area. Heavy-duty shelves lined the walls, filled with old supplies like canned goods, sealed packs of dried food, extra water jugs. A few crates sat stacked in the corner, covered in dust, filled with things he had salvaged over the years: spare clothing, an old hunting rifle, ammunition, rolls of tarp and rope. It wasn’t fully stocked, but it would be enough to last them a while.

  Next to it, the bathroom, small, but functional. It had all the basic necessities. A toilet, a metal sink with an old mirror mounted above it, cracked in one corner, and a large basin for bathing in, with a shower nozzle attached above. It was all fed by an old well, which he hoped was still working.

  Finally, to the back, the bedroom.

  Kael nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside. The room was sparse, but not empty. A bunk sat against the far wall, layered in blankets he had left behind years ago. A few pillows were strewn about, slightly flattened from time, but still soft. The walls bore faint markings, scratches from his younger years, notes and drawings. A small dresser stood beside the bed, with a footlocker next to it.

  The space felt reminiscent of another time.

  Kael moved toward the bunk, lowering Nova down with the utmost care. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face, scanning for any sign of movement.

  Nothing.

  She deserved more than this, more than a dusty, forgotten bunker and a man who barely knew what to do with himself. But this was all he had to offer.

  For now.

  He adjusted the blankets around her, ensuring she was warm, before stepping back into the main room. His gaze flickered toward the shelves, the radio, the maps pinned to the wall. He had everything he needed to stay hidden while he figured out what they were going to do.

  Kael turned, looking around at the space. It needed work.

  He started with the dust, wiping down the table, shelves, and old books. He didn’t know why he felt it mattered, only that it did. If she woke up, she shouldn’t wake to dust and decay.

  He moved to the storage room, sorting through supplies. Canned fruit, vegetables, meat, packages of jerky, and a few bags of dried rice and bottles of water. It was all at least five years old, and he had no idea if any of it was edible. He also took stock of the batteries, a flint and flashlight, a coil of rope, and a knife. He stacked them neatly, forcing order onto the chaos.

  He stepped back into the main room, glancing down at himself. The blood was dried in streaks across his arms, his ruined clothes stiff with it.

  The gunshot still echoed in his mind..

  Her loss of self, and the fire burned into his memory.

  In that moment, she had unraveled, drowning in anguish, ready to take the world with her...she had believed that he was gone, and was ready to take herself and everything else with him.

  His stomach dropped. It wasn’t right. It was his fault she'd felt that way.

  Without another thought, he stripped the bloodied clothes from his frame, and threw them in the wood burner.

  He grabbed a small book of matches, lit the lamp, and tossed the match onto the clothes. The flame wavered, then hungrily began devouring the fabric.

  Stepping into the bathroom, he tested the old spigot. It groaned a little and he watched the rust colored water run while he stared at it aimlessly until it turned clear. It was ice cold, but it woke him from his fog as he scrubbed the blood from his body, washing away the reminder of their unexpected brush with death.

  Kael felt his wolf stir, a feeling of anticipation and hope briefly betraying it’s emotions.

  Kael tensed. “What is it Fenrir?”

  After a long pause, a low rumble. I can feel her wolf.

  He felt the tension roll off of him like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been waiting for any kind of sign that she hadn’t been completely lost to him. Fenrir might be an asshole of a companion, but at least he had gifted him this small assurance that things may yet be ok.

  He grabbed an old towel and dried his hair while warming himself by the stove, throwing a log on top of the burning clothes. Then, walked back to the bedroom, to watch the steady rise and fall of Nova’s breath.

  Kael grumbled at her in a voice quiet, but firm, "You better wake up soon, little wolf."

  He then turned around and decided to reinvigorate the rest of the space. He took the old blankets and clothes to the bathroom, washing them as best he could. The scent of vinegar and pine filled the air, sharp and clean, cutting through the dust.

  Kael didn’t know how long he worked, only that it was easier than thinking. If he let himself think he would have to admit that he was afraid for her, and fear was not something that he could afford to allow into his heart.

  ______________

  Kael didn’t realize how heavy his body felt until he finally sat down.

  The chair creaked softly as he settled into it, his muscles aching from the constant strain of the past few days. He leaned forward, forearms resting against the edge of the bed, his head close to where Nova lay, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing.

  The bunker was silent, save for the faint crackle of the woodburner and the occasional flicker of the lantern’s light against the walls. The weight of everything pressed against him in the stillness: the uncertainty and lack of knowledge harrowing.

  He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment. “Just for a second,” he thought to himself.

  For the first time in what felt like years, Kael allowed himself to let go, just enough to slip into the quiet warmth of her presence as sleep pulled him under.